


Don't Leave

by hoppa12345



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppa12345/pseuds/hoppa12345
Summary: Wilson is having a rough time, and House comforts him the best he knows how.
Kudos: 2





	Don't Leave

BANG! BANG! BANG!

House sighed irritably as he pushed himself off the couch and limped over to the door, leaning heavily on his cane, muttering mutinously under his breath. He was tired and pissed off after a long day at work - he had been reamed out by Cuddy, which ordinarily didn't bother him, except that she'd been right when she had tried to stop him from doing that impossibly risky surgery, and he had been wrong. In the end, she had caved when she shouldn't have, and he had proceeded to lose his patient on the table, resulting in a screaming match between House and his now liable-to-be-sued boss. Now, in the words of the patient's family, he could "look forward to a law suit". He sighed again. That would make two this month, and they were only fifteen days in - almost a personal record. _Yay for me._

He yanked open the door as he snapped, "What the hell do you-" but the rest of the words died on his tongue as he took in the sight before him.

"I... couch..." Wilson mumbled thickly, making wild guestures with his hands as he attempted to communicate his need to sit down. House stepped back quickly to avoid Wilson's flailing arms as he staggered past him, swaying precariously with every step. House bit back another sigh. _Great_. Now he would have to deal with Wilson's drunken ass. As if his day hadn't already been difficult enough. Still, he felt an uncharacteristic flicker of something - was that concern? No, surely not - that he had to push down before it could reach his eyes, visible for the whole world to see. It was only 6pm - he and Wilson had left the hospital less than an hour before. Wilson must've drank a _lot_ of alcohol to be reduced to this.

House watched as Wilson collapsed onto his couch with a heavy _thump_ and then limped down the hall to the bathroom to grab some Pepto-Bismol before Wilson could start throwing up all over his stuff. As he shoved them and a couple of aspirin under his friend's nose, he took to wondering not only _how_ Wilson had managed to get this drunk, but _why_. He went to the kitchen to pour his friend a glass of water, and, as an afterthought, grabbed a beer for himself.

Wilson squinted at House as he plonked down onto the couch beside him and twisted the cap off, taking a long swig. _Gaahh... that's the stuff._

"Huh? B... beer?" Wilson slurred, his voice incredulous - or, as incredulous as he _could_ sound, under the circumstances.

"Yup. Wouldn't be fair if you'd done all the drinking and I didn't get to do any!"

"Can I... ahh..." he took an uncoordinated swing at the bottle. House jerked it away, out of his reach.

"No. You drink any more and you'll be puking all over my couch. I don't plan on letting that happen. Again," he added.

"W... wh... naa..." Wilson mumbled incoherently as he slumped back onto the couch, his eyes lazily flicking around the room.

"Besides, I need you to sober up enough to tell me what you're doing here and, more importantly, why you're _this_ drunk _this_ early."

"Mm... I... hrrgh..." Wilson started tilting towards him, his eyes half closed. House pushed him away. "Mmpfh... House!" he protested sleepily.

"Nuh-uh, I don't think so. You stay on your side and I'll stick to mine."

House turned to the TV, flicking the volume up. "Hey! The L-Word is on. Nice."

**HOUSEMD**

Fixated on the TV, House started as his friend's head suddenly dropped into his lap, his eyes closed. "Hey! Wilson! Get off!"

The only response was a quiet snore from Wilson's open mouth. House smirked and turned back to his show.

**HOUSEMD**

House jolted awake to a strange sound. The first thing he became aware of as he blinked the bleariness out of his eyes was the dull glow of the TV, which was now playing on mute. The second thing he became aware of was the absence of Wilson's head in his lap. He craned his neck, looking around the dimly-lit apartment, but couldn't see him. The clock above the TV read _11:16_. He frowned slightly, looking around again. The front door was still shut, and Wilson, in his inebriated state, probably wouldn't have thought to shut it behind him had he decided to go walkabout. House jerked his head up as he heard that strange noise again. It was coming from down the hall. It sounded like - _oh God. Is Wilson crying?_

House pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed. He knew it was kind of his job to comfort his friend, but it would really be so easy to just pretend he hadn't heard and go back to his dream about Cuddy.

He decided Wilson probably wouldn't want House to see him in such a vulnerable state anyway, and was almost back to sleep when he heard it again. Resigning himself to his fate, he heaved himself up off the couch and half staggered down to the bathroom, using the wall and various other pieces of furniture as supports. He pushed the door open, surprised to find the small, tiled room empty. He rolled his eyes as he realised that this meant that Wilson must be in _his_ room. Turning around, he slowly opened his bedroom door, aware that it creaked and hoping desperately that Wilson had fallen back to sleep to save House having to try to do something human - _yeckh..._ but no such luck. The sliver of light that protruded through the crack showed Wilson face down on House's bed, his fists bunching up the covers, his shoulders shaking slightly. As House watched, Wilson let out another sob, clenching the bed sheets even more tightly as he tried to muffle the sound in the pillows.

_No turning back now._ House limped over and sat on the edge of the bed. Wilson, feeling the weight shift, suddenly froze. House placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and pushed him gently onto his side so that he could see Wilson's face. It was red and tear-streaked, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead.

"Wilson?" House asked gruffly. He softened his voice slightly when he saw his friend flinch. "You okay?"

God, how he hated situations like these. Stupid social situations with stupid social rules. It was obvious that Wilson was far from _okay_. Just how far, House would have to try and gauge from his answer.

Or lack thereof. Wilson remained silent and bit his lip, the only sign that he had heard the older doctor's words.

"I know I'm amazing, but I haven't developed my skills quite enough to read minds yet," House quipped, trying to break some of the tension in the air. "That's a skill only a wife could be expected to have." He expected Wilson to smile, maybe even laugh if he was lucky, but it quickly became evident that his friend's wife was at least part of the problem as instead Wilson's face contorted and his shoulders shook even more violently than before. House, bewildered and at a loss for words, tried the only thing he could think of besides talking - he pulled Wilson into a loose, one-armed hug. He tensed as his friend buried his face in the older doctor's shoulder and clung onto him tightly, shifting so that he was practically sitting on top of House.

After a few moments in which the only sound was Wilson's ragged breathing, House relaxed a bit, patting his friend's back awkwardly. After a few more, Wilson pulled away slightly, opening his eyes to stare at the older doctor. They were red and puffy.

"House? What... why are you being so nice?"

_No slurred words... he's coming out of it,_ House noted dryly.

"Why are _you_ getting tears all over my sheets?" House smirked, attempting to create an atmosphere that resembled normal. Well, as normal as possible with Wilson still clinging to him like there was no tomorrow.

Wilson, too upset to notice House's deflection, responded dully, "Sorry."

House smirk faltered. So it was going to take more than a few well-placed jokes to make his friend feel better. He hesitated for a while, knowing what he would have to do and trying to put it off for as long as possible. Finally, he couldn't take the tense silence anymore. He cringed inwardly as he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Wilson hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. He opened his mouth but as soon as he tried to speak his eyes brimmed with tears and he shut it again. House waited patiently. Finally Wilson took a deep, steadying breath and said, "My... my wife left me. She moved out yesterday. And... and I thought I was okay. But today I..." His voice shook, and he ducked his head, ashamed. "I lost five patients. One after the other. I wasn't good enough." His voice broke. "I should have, I should have been able to save them, and I should have been able to make my wife happy, but, but I couldn't, and I'm not good enough and-"

Wilson was almost wailing by now and House interrupted, "Woah, woah, woah... Wilson, you need to calm down. It wasn't your fault. I mean, maybe it was in part, but... patients die. You've lost them before. So have I. It's part of the job. It doesn't mean you're not good enough, it just means five more people with cancer just couldn't hold on anymore. And your wife." Wilson let out a strangled sob. "Sometimes... people just aren't meant to be together." He felt a pang in his chest as he thought of Stacy, but pushed the thought away. _Not the time for reminiscing._

Wilson exhaled shakily. "But... maybe if I'd just..."

"Done what? Magically seen into the future?" House couldn't help but revert to his sarcastic nature. He took a deep breath, forcing the sarcasm out of his voice. "There was nothing you could do. It's not your fault," he added softly.

"But now... now I'm alone... she... she _left_ me, House. For good."

"You're not alone. I'm still here. I'll always be here, okay? I won't ever leave you."

At House's words, Wilson lost all previous composure and dissolved into inconsolable sobs, burying his face in the older doctor's shoulder once more and clutching at his t-shirt. House tightened his grip around him and rested his chin on his friend's head, sighing quietly as he rubbed circles across his back and murmured soothingly. "Shhh... you're okay, you're going to be okay. Shhh..."

**HOUSEMD**

Eventually, the sobs subsided, and his breathing evened out. Wilson leaned away from House, and House let him. Wilson's eyes were drooping, and the older doctor watched as he stifled a yawn. House glanced at the clock. _2:03_.

_Shit. We've been sitting here for three hours. You certainly know how to cry, Wilson._

"Okay, I think it's time for bed," House murmured, pushing Wilson gently off of him as he got up and stretched, massaging his leg. Wilson's breath hitched again as he started to walk towards the door, reluctantly heading back to the couch. House saw his friend's shoulders start to tremble again and quickly pulled him back. He had used up his comfort-quota for the night - hell, probably for the _year_ \- and he didn't want to have to go through that all over again. "Just... sleep here tonight," he muttered to a confused Wilson.

He settled down on the bed, feeling Wilson snuggle up beside him, bury his face in House's shoulder. He hated this. He liked being able to sleep, spread-eagled, on the bed. But Wilson was hurting, so House put up with it. He knew that Wilson needed this contact, needed to feel protected, needed to feel like someone still loved him, and like he wasn't alone.

"House?" a quiet, uncertain voice asked.

"Wilson?"

"Did you mean all that? About never leaving?"

"Yup."

"Promise?"

House smiled, and this time it was a real smile, not just a smirk. "Go to sleep, Wilson."

As House drifted off to sleep, the last thing he felt was Wilson's arm draped across his chest.


End file.
